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The clouds are grey and the land is murky,
This storm has a mysterious origin, with gusty expressions that implodes on its partial self.
Thunder and lightning, the roar only reminds those on the periphery that this tempest is precarious.
Floods and rains wash away the peace of the day.
No rainbow in sight, only the howls of the wind, suggesting that sunshine and rain is our nature.
Debris such as sticks and stones hover from everywhere with no concern of its impact.
As the night progresses a pounding rain condenses to a thrashing spry.
The eye of the storm is seeking for whom it will devour.
Although calm all in its path must secure their chattels.
No birds singing in the morning, the horror of the night has robbed the day of its splendour.
As the dark skies brightens, the memory of yesterday’s damper is viewed as an unforeseen forecast.
The storms do not come to breakdown but rather build up.
While the sun evaporates the remnants of inclement conditions, most of the rain is immersed into the skin of the earth.
And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea…but Jesus Himself was asleep.
Be still!
By: Jamal Archer
jasonjamal.wordpress.com 